


A Failed De-Jinxifying

by indifferentyoongi



Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: All members are present but the characters I've tagged are the main cast, Alternate Universe - College/University, Baseball Player!Yuto, Dance Major!Hyunggu, Fluff, M/M, No Angst, Side Woowon, Slow Burn, This is all fluff folks please enjoy, side huidawn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 03:50:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14926592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indifferentyoongi/pseuds/indifferentyoongi
Summary: “How did you still get yelled at when you came in before your teacher?”“If you must know—““Baseball player distracted him.”“Oooooohhhh,” Hwitaek teased. “Did he now?”Hyunggu glared at both of his friends. “Shut it. He literally barreled past me to get to the back row where he could inevitably sleep for the rest of class.”“Someone’s touchy tonight,” Hwitaek whispered loudly to Hyojong.Hyunggu consciously softened his expression. His hyungs always made fun of him for being too sensitive, and Hyunggu tried his best to prove them wrong, but some days he understood why Hyojong brought it up anytime he could. “Sorry, hyung. Today’s been weird.”“Embrace the weird,” Hyojong offered with his arms spread wide. “Loosen up a bit, Hyunggu. Come in late more often, let cute boys run into you daily, joke back with your professors, suck more di—““Okay! Let’s get back to practice!”__Or, Yuto runs into Hyunggu on his way into class and suddenly Hyunggu cannot ignore the quiet kid in the back who talks with his hands and laughs at Hyojong's terrible jokes.





	A Failed De-Jinxifying

**Author's Note:**

> I recently fell down the Adachi Yuto rabbithole. I was taken by Pentagon Maker's bold claim that Yuto doesn't show any reactions when he seemed to say so much with his hands. Here, Hyunggu notices just that. 
> 
> I had so much fun writing this ensemble, and it is my first time doing so. I hope I do these dynamics justice. 
> 
> A note on age here: I have mostly ignored age gaps. Maknae line are all sophomores, everyone else is indiscriminately older, with Jinho being the only one who has actually graduated. 
> 
> A final thank you to [the lovely kaya](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/unfunny) for not only introducing me to pentagon in the first place but also taking the time to put her jetlagged eyeballs to this fic. 
> 
> Happy reading!

Hyunggu wasn’t one to be late. 

Some days he spent two moments too long deciding on a belt to match his shoes, and just last week his favorite coffee shop was out of, of all things,  _ coffee _ , and he had to wait for a new batch to brew, but even on those off-days he was exactly on time. He made sure to wake up early; he meticulously timed the trips from his apartment to campus to ensure he never had to face disappointed professors’ sighs.

Today, though, he was decidedly late. Hyunggu forgot his textbook, the bus driver forgot her timecheck, and some asshole on a bike forgot that sidewalks were for pedestrians. 

Five minutes late, Hyunggu walked into his Commercially Consumed Dance class. Of all of his courses, this was the one he would have least liked to embarrass himself in. CCD was a requirement of his performing arts degree but was more widely infamous for being an easy A, particularly for athletes and seniors hoping to pad their GPAs. There was no homework outside of attending performances and concerts in the city—becoming the commercial consumers for which the class was named—and exams were essays rather than memorized facts or formulas. Hyunggu didn’t mind it; he wanted to work in the entertainment industry once he graduated, and learning how and why the public consumed dance seemed integral to his success. What annoyed him instead was how little 60% of the class actually invested in the material. 

So Hyunggu winced with each inch of the creaking classroom door. The inevitable mocking faces of his classmates forced his eyes to the ground, and when he opened the door far enough to squeeze his body and his backpack through, he bolted for the first open seat. 

“You’re so fucking lucky,” he heard a voice say before he even had a chance to sit down.

Hyunggu’s eyes snapped up to see Hyojong shaking his head at him while everyone else in the class looking down at their phones. At the front of the classroom, only the abandoned podium stood. 

“The one day the golden boy’s late, so is the professor.”

“Shut up,” Hyunggu replied with a relieved sigh. “This is karmic justice.”

“That’s not how the world works, my sweet, naive dongsaeng.” 

Hyunggu only stuck out his tongue in response. He learned ten years ago that arguing with his best friend was often useless. He focused instead on grabbing his laptop out of his book bag and rolling his eyes at the tall kid in the back who whispered to no one in particular, “Don’t we get to leave if the professor is more than fifteen minutes late?” Now  _ that _ was a naive dongsaeng.

And Hyunggu turned to Hyojong to tell him precisely that but was cut off by a pair of hands on his waist, a deep “excuse me,” by his ear, and the sounds of someone fumbling their way to the back of the classroom—a backpack slung against a desk, thighs squeezing in between chairs. 

“What the hell—“ 

The owner of the hands and the voice and the rustling slumped into a seat beside the tall kid. Hyunggu watched as the guy breathed hard, head tilted back and eyes closed, while his friend openly laughed at him. 

“Why didn’t you check your phone? I texted you she wasn’t here yet,” the tall one teased, barely able to get the words out around his giggles. “How far did you run here?” 

“Practice field. I had to talk to Coach,” he huffed out.

_ Athlete _ , Hyunggu thought, of course. 

The latecomer’s attention shifted forward when the creaking hinge sounded once more. He flicked quickly between the door and Hyunggu, who was watching him with incredulous eyes.  He gave an apologetic bow before subtly pointing toward the front of the room with his pointer finger. 

Hyunggu followed the motion to Professor Kim, the third person in the past five minutes to arrive to the classroom out of breath and frazzled on this curséd Thursday morning.

“Unless you’d like to share a performance of your own with the class, Kang Hyunggu, I suggest you sit,” she chided without looking up from her laptop.

As he promptly dropped his entire body weight into his chair, Hyunggu swore he heard the tall kid snort behind him. 

___

“Everyone! I have an announcement!” Hyojong declared that night at dance practice. “Gather round, gather round.”

Hyunggu reluctantly halted his movements mid-routine and made his way toward the middle of the studio. 

“I don’t want any of you to freak out when I tell you this, and I want you to know that I’m here for you if you need to talk to someone, okay?” 

All ten dancers, with eyes glued to their unofficial mood maker, gulped anxiously. Hyunggu shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unsure of why Hyojong wouldn’t have briefed him, their unofficial co-leader, of this announcement beforehand. Hwitaek’s eyes grew wide beside him, undoubtedly the same thought going through his mind as well. 

Hyojong let out a deep breath. “Our very own Kang Hyunggu was late to class today.”

Collectively and boisterously, heckling erupted. 

“The prof even made fun of him!” Hyojong yelled around punches and admonishments from his hyungs and dongsaengs alike. “In front of everyone!” Hyojong caged his face with his arms. “Hyunggu hates being teased, especially in public, you all should be thanking me for delivering this important news!” 

A chorus of ‘Booooo’s followed.

Hyunggu stood with his own arms crossed across his chest, mostly satisfied with a punishment he didn’t himself have to inflict.

Karmic justice.

Though Hwitaek could have hidden the smile in his eyes as he yelled “Yah!” with absolutely no heat in his voice. 

It took several minutes, but eventually everyone got back to practicing the routine they were tasked with for the upcoming showcase. They all knew how likely it was to be scouted at the performance, and Hyunggu and Hwitaek made sure everyone understood they were essentially preparing for a job interview. Reluctantly, Hyunggu would admit that having Hyojong’s…antics... around was more of a boost than a hindrance on most nights. Minds were drained from the stress of academics, bodies were fatigued from the strain of repetitive motions, but laughter was plentiful, filling them all up with a warmth that seemed to soothe their aching muscles. They all had Hyojong to thank for that. 

So Hyunggu wasn’t surprised when during a water break conversation quickly steered back to him. Hwitaek knocked their shoulders together where they both sat with backs resting against the cool mirror. 

“How did you still get yelled at when you came in before your teacher?”

“If you  _ must _ know—“ 

“Baseball player distracted him.”

“Oooooohhhh,” Hwitaek teased. “Did he now?”

Hyunggu glared at both of his friends. “Shut it. He literally barreled past me to get to the back row where he could inevitably sleep for the rest of class.”

“Someone’s touchy tonight,” Hwitaek whispered loudly to Hyojong.

Hyunggu consciously softened his expression. His hyungs always made fun of him for being too sensitive, and Hyunggu tried his best to prove them wrong, but some days he understood why Hyojong brought it up anytime he could. “Sorry, hyung. Today’s been weird.”

“Embrace the weird,” Hyojong offered with his arms spread wide. “Loosen up a bit, Hyunggu. Come in late more often, let cute boys run into you daily, joke back with your professors, suck more di—“ 

“Okay! Let’s get back to practice!”

___

Hyojong must have jinxed him. 

A week passed, and Hyunggu only felt weirder. 

He wasn’t late again—he was in no way planning on taking any of his best friend’s advice—but it did feel like he was seeing his class with new eyes, like it was the first week of CCD rather than two months into the semester. 

He’d spent all semester carefully ignoring everyone in this class who wasn’t Professor Kim or Hyojong: he sat in the front row, he left promptly when class was over, he offered no help to the clueless senior sitting two desks down from him who actually asked him once if he could copy his homework for a class in which there was no homework. 

Now, when Hyunggu walked into class seven minutes early, he split his attention between Hyojong’s usual recap of his nightly text-flirting with Hwitaek and waiting to see how close to the beginning of class baseball guy was going to arrive. Not that he cared. He was simply  _ aware _ .

In the last week, he’d been just barely on time twice; Hyunggu had watched as he rushed through the doorway with heavy footsteps, chest rising and falling with apparent exertion. He’d halt his forward momentum just inside of the classroom with the realization that he’d beaten the professor, bringing his arms perpendicular to his chest, palms down, following the movement of his breathing as if his relief was controlled by his hands alone. By Tuesday, Hyunggu wondered how good of a baseball player he could be if he had to run from pep talks with the coach every single day.

When he was late, and he was, also twice, he bowed as quickly as possible, palms pressed together under his chin and walked silently to his seat. Yesterday, as he passed the front row, his black leather jacket tickled Hyunggu’s right arm, and no sooner had Hyunggu felt the fabric on his skin was it gripped it tightly against the guy’s side. 

On Friday, Hyunggu convinced himself this was a week-long jinx and he’d be back to ignoring the jocks on Monday. 

“We should invite everyone over this weekend,” Hyunggu told Hyojong while they waited for class to start. “I need a break.” 

“Not that I’m not always ready for a party, but you do realize you’re only going to get more stressed from here on out, right? Midterms in a couple weeks, showcase practice, the stupid group project.” 

“Even more reason to relax now. Like the calm before the storm.” Hyunggu gave his hyung a grin. 

“I’ll see if Hwitaek hyung’s free. He can invite those cute music nerds he lives with.”

“When are _ you _ going to be the cute music nerd he lives with?”

Hyojong leaned back in his chair, offended. “You really expect us to go from refusing to acknowledge that we’re flirting to shacking up. I know millennials have rewritten dating rules but this is just not realistic, Hyunggu—“ 

“YUTOOOOOOOOOO!”

Hyojong and Hyunggu whipped their heads to the back of the classroom. The tall one and a few other guys were standing on their feet, yelling with their hands cupped around their mouths. 

Hyunggu shifted back to the front of the room to see what exactly their disruption aimed at. There stood the baseball guy, dressed in his usual black t-shirt and jeans, one hand up in front of his mouth, doing a poor job of hiding his embarrassed smile. His other hand vehemently waved away the attention. 

“Excuse me, Adachi Yuto,” Professor Kim’s voice sounded from outside the doorway. “I know you helped us win the baseball game last night, but you do still have to take your seat.”

That shifted the room from one of celebration to snickers and sputters. Baseball guy--Yuto-- bowed deeply before moving aside to allow the professor to enter. Despite the admonishment, Hyunggu saw a small smile tug at the corner of his lips.

“If you’re all done celebrating, let’s begin. We’re going to work in groups today—“ The class collectively groaned. “—and to twist the knife that much further, the groups I put you in today will be your permanent partners for the final group project.”

Professor Kim raised her voice over the quick whispering of friends wondering who would get paired with whom, Hyunggu and Hyojong included. “Remember, you’ll all be in groups of four, and you will report to the class a commercial dance performance of your choice and its reception both critically and by the general public. The presentation and its write-up will count as your final exam rather than a traditional test or essay. Today, though, we’ll practice. I’ll assign each group a short video clip and a news article. You must analyze these two items as well as the comment section of the video. Understand?”

The class nodded. 

“Okay. Here are your groups.”

With no further warning, Professor Kim projected the class roster clustered in different colored fonts. Hyunggu scanned frantically for his own name.

Kang Hyunggu   
Jung Wooseok   
Kim Hyojong   
Adachi Yuto

“See?” Professor Kim’s voice sliced through the awkward moments when students found their names and began scanning the room for the other members of their groups. “I put you all with at least one person you’re friends with. I’m not totally the devil incarnate. Now, go. Rearrange your seats.”

“What are the odds?” Hyojong said with a chuckle as they both stood to move to the back of the room. 

“This is your fault,” Hyunggu bit back.

“Do you think Professor Kim and I met over coffee conspiring to put you with the cute baseball guy?”

“Yes--”

“His name’s Yuto,” a voice interjected. Hyunggu turned to see the tall guy from the back row standing by his desk “And I’m Wooseok,” he added. 

Hyunggu was going to kill Hyojong. Apparently, the jocks thought they’d sit up front while Hyojong and Hyunggu had assumed they’d move to the back. 

Hyojong took the awkward introduction in stride, announcing his own name brightly while Hyunggu mumbled a greeting. After a round of stilted bows and desk legs scraping against floors, they got started on the classwork. 

It wasn’t as bad as Hyunggu was anticipating. He worked together well with Wooseok; they took charge of the assignment easily and without protest from the other two. Hyojong supplied an unhelpful joke or three, and Yuto simply nodded when asked a direct question. 

Hyunggu did feel grateful for Yuto, though, when right before time was up, Wooseok accidentally skipped a question on the Google Doc they had to submit for the classwork grade. Hyunggu was too busy scanning the YouTube comments to notice, but Yuto’s deep “ah,” shifted his attention, and he watched as Yuto stretched his fingers around Wooseok’s wrist, causing him to stop typing. 

“This one, too.” Yuto pointed at Wooseok’s laptop screen where he’d skipped the question. 

“See, this is why I keep you around,” Wooseok joked, and Yuto simply squeezed his friend’s arm in response. 

Hyunggu, taken by the exchange, let his eyes linger on Yuto’s hands, now resting on the table in front of him, for too long. This time, Yuto didn’t catch him staring. But Hyojong did. 

Loud snaps directly in front of his eyes brought Hyunggu back to the work in front of him. 

“You feeling okay? What’s gotten into you?” Hyojong whispered as they waited for the last group to finish up. 

“This is your fault, Kim Hyojong. You told me to be weird and now everything is weird. Happy?” 

Hyojong smiled.

“Yes.” 

___

“Exchange contact info,” Professor Kim requested before class ended. “I want to see a preliminary report on Monday of how you’re dividing up the work on this project. I won’t allow any slackers. Once you’ve done that, you’re free to go.” 

“Do we want to just create a group chat?” Wooseok asked.

Yuto nodded, and they all fished out their phones from their pockets. 

“We can just talk about dividing up the work over text, right? No need to meet up?” Hyunggu thought back to his weekend of de-jinxifying his life. “I can write up the report, I don’t mind.” 

“I have a game tomorrow morning, so I might not respond until later in the afternoon if that’s okay?” Yuto replied.

Hyojong pointed between their group mates. “Wait, are you not both on the baseball team?” 

“Me?” Wooseok pointed to his chest. “Fuck no. I mean, I support Yuto’s straight-passing jock tendencies, but I don’t play any sports.”

Hyojong reached his arm up far above his head, wrist hooked out. “I just assumed.” 

Yuto laughed, really laughed, without a hand to muffle the endearing sound. “Height doesn’t really help you in baseball like it does in basketball, though I guess it can’t hurt.” 

As they packed up their bookbags, Wooseok explained that his mom put him in a volleyball camp when he was seven and once the coordinators realized he had no skill beyond his height, they actually asked his mother to unenroll him so someone with actual talent could take his spot. 

Hyunggu laughed, really laughed, and allowed himself to hope that this project wouldn’t be so bad.

___

Getting ahold of everyone on Saturday wasn’t difficult, to which Hyunggu was thankful. He wanted to get the progress report, as well as the rest of his homework for Monday, out of the way as quickly as possible so he could fully enjoy the get together that night. Wooseok was so quick to respond to Hyunggu’s questions about the division of work that Hyunggu almost felt bad for judging the jocks so harshly, especially considering Wooseok wasn’t even an athlete at all. He just looked like one. Yuto agreed to his share of the project a few hours later with unprompted news from Wooseok that he’d won the baseball game. It took Hyunggu all of ten minutes to submit the document. 

In the evening, Hyojong confirmed that Hwitaek would in fact bring his music production friends by for drinks and games. Despite being part of the same college, arts students didn’t cross paths that often, but Hyojong always made an effort to merge his friend group with Hwitaek’s. How Hyojong even managed to recruit Hwitaek, who he met in the laundry room of their freshman dorm of all places, into their dance troupe when he was so deeply invested in his songwriting and singing was still a mystery to Hyunggu. How Hwitaek joined the studio and immediately became the co-leader was a more puzzling quandary, but Hyunggu didn’t dwell on the latter too often. He was grateful for the help. 

Some of Hwitaek’s friends Hyunggu had met before—they lived together in the same apartment complex, and Hwitaek often hosted parties. Jinho was a hyung Hyunggu looked up to, and Changgu never failed to make him smile. He was relieved to see them standing in his doorway that night, but he wasn’t expecting to see a third friend, Yanan, who Hyunggu knew from his part-time job over the summer. 

“How the hell do you know each other?” Hyunggu asked as he gestured the group through the living room where Hyojong and Hwitaek already sat on the floor, Hyojong’s head in Hwitaek’s lap. 

“We shared a dorm freshman year,” Changgu answered, hugging Yanan around his midsection. 

“Changgu told me he was coming to your place tonight, and I figured I’d tag along. It’s been a while, man.”

Hyunggu gave Yanan a hug of his own. “It has. It’s good to see you, hyung. You guys go sit down, I’ll get you a drink.”

In the kitchen, he grabbed three solo cups. Hyunggu didn’t want anyone to get sloppy tonight; his goal was simply to wind down. Liquor and mixers, no shots, no shotgunning beers. 

“How’s work going, hyung?” Hyunggu asked once he got everyone settled. 

Jinho graduated the year before and worked with a local songwriter to create guides that they sold to commercial artists. Hyunggu knew from a drunken conversation last year that Jinho wanted to be the one buying the songs rather than the one demo’ing them. 

“Good, actually.” Jinho wrapped his arms around his knees that were tucked close to his chest. “Jaeyoung sunbae has a meeting with a production company next week. He could become a permanent, contracted songwriter, and he’s going to tell them I’m a package deal.” 

“Holy shit!” Hyojong screeched. He threw himself on top of Jinho who toppled backward onto the carpet under his weight. “That’s amazing! You’re amazing!” 

Hyunggu smiled at his hyung’s news and at Hyojong’s ability to show such open affection for people he wasn’t that close to. Hyunggu was maybe even more physically affectionate than Hyojong once he got to know someone really well, but casual intimacy was more difficult for him. 

Hwitaek wasted no time piling on top of Hyojong. Only the pats of Jinho’s small hands on the backs of his friends could be seen until Changgu rescued him from the dogpile to offer his own congratulations. 

“Are you going to forget me when you’re famous, hyung?” Hyunggu asked with an exaggerated pout once Jinho was upright and safely sipping on his drink. 

“What do you mean? I forget you now. We only ever hang out when we’re drunk and emotional, we’ve got to stop meeting like this.” Jinho ruffled Hyunggu’s hair, somehow knowing exactly what kind of contact would make Hyunggu most comfortable. “What’s the occasion tonight anyway?” 

Before Hyunggu could answer, a knock sounded at the door. 

He turned to Hwitaek. “Who else are we expecting?” 

“I only got confirmation from you guys, but I extended the invitation to the whole group chat.”

Hyunggu winced. “I’m not even going to ask how many people are in that message. What if thirty randos are outside my apartment right now?” 

“Just let them in,” Hyojong whined. “The whole point of tonight is to get that stick out of your ass. The more, the merrier.” 

“I wish I had a stick up my ass,” Hyunggu muttered as he opened the door. 

“Hyunggu?” 

_ Wait.  _

_ What? _

“How the hell do you know where I live?” was Hyunggu’s inelegant welcome to Jung Wooseok and Adachi Yuto standing in his doorway. 

Yuto’s eyes stared widely at him, shoulders tightened up around his neck while Wooseok appeared amused. “We had no idea you were hosting. Hwitaek hyung—“

Hyunggu turned on the spot. “You know them?” 

“Hyojong told me to invite my ‘cute music nerd friends,’ and Wooseok’s a composition major. I didn’t know you all knew each other.” Hwitaek looked amused, too. In fact, it was only Yuto and Hyunggu who seemed as confused as Hyunggu thought the second coincidence of the night called for. 

He turned back to the porch to see Wooseok batting his eyelashes at him, hands drawn up in a flower pose by his cheeks. “Cute music nerd, as requested. Accompanied by lonely jock who needs to celebrate.” 

Yuto’s apology was etched into his eyebrows, into the downward turn of his mouth. He tugged on Wooseok’s jacket as if to suggest they should just go. 

Hyunggu sighed. If he turned them away now, working on the project for the next two months might be awkward, and damn if he was going to jeopardize his grade in an in-major class. 

Hyunggu stepped aside without a word, and when neither of them moved a muscle, he rolled his eyes and motioned them inside. 

___

“Are you sure it’s okay if we’re here?” Yuto asked in the kitchen while Hyunggu made the unexpected guests’ drinks. Wooseok sat down quickly to ask Hwitaek how it was possible the guy he’d been talking about was in one of his classes. The blush spread across Hyojong and Hwitaek’s faces was the last thing Hyunggu saw before he left the room. He hadn’t realized Yuto followed him. 

“Congrats on winning the game today,” Hyunggu redirected. 

“Um,” Yuto scratched at the nape of his neck. “Thanks. I really didn’t know, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable—“

“It’s fine. This week couldn’t get any weirder. Go big or go home, right?” Hyunggu handed Yuto his drink. “I’m home and you’re tall, so. Cheers?”

Hyunggu took a shot. 

Yuto looked impressed. Or terrified. Hyunggu couldn’t tell. 

___

“Never have I ever? Really? Are we sixteen again?” 

“This is the first time we’ve had this group of people together. We need to get to know each other,” Hyojong replied with a glint in his eyes. Hyunggu was now worried it was inviting Woosoek and Yuto in that was going to make working together awkward. 

He sat down in between Hyojong and Jinho, a heady mix of rum and coke clutched in his hands. 

“Fine, I’ll start.” Hyunggu began with the easy, noninvasive—“Never have I ever changed a tire”—which immediately backfired when no one put down a finger, and he had to chug his entire drink. It was only his second of the night, but the night began just thirty minutes ago. 

After returning from a quick trip back to the kitchen to replace his drink, Hyunggu survived pierced ears and cheating on a test, Jinho and Changgu’s turns respectively, but several others’ fingers folded across the misshapen circle. 

Changgu bumped his shoulder into Yanan, signalling him to go next. “Um, never have I ever dated someone,” Yanan said, and Hwitaek let out an exaggerated gasp as he lowered his pointer finger.

“With a face like that?”

“With body proportions like that?” 

“With hair like that?” 

All eyes stared in wonder at the delicate features of Yanan’s face contrasted with the wide angle of his shoulders. 

“It must just be my shitty personality that’s the problem, then,” Yanan deadpanned, causing Hyunggu to fall over into Hyojong’s lap with laughter. Changgu patted Yanan’s shoulder soothingly, though Yanan didn’t look like he particularly cared. 

Wooseok was next: “Never have I ever had a dongsaeng in this room.” 

“Aish, this kid,” Hwitaek muttered while everyone but Yuto and Hyunggu put a finger down. The three youngest high-fived across the circle. 

Their newfound camaraderie ended before it even began once Yuto proclaimed he’d never taken a dance class. 

Hyunggu sent a glare his way, which Yuto challenged by lifting one eyebrow and the corner of his mouth, but it was Hwitaek and Hyojong who were most affected. They were both down to one finger. 

Hyunggu thought certain Hwitaek would target Hyojong; they knew each other well enough to easily cause the other to lose, but when Hwitaek said, “Never have I ever changed my major” only Yuto folded a finger. He was also now down to one. 

Hyojong apparently had no problem targeting. 

“Never have I ever,” he said carefully, “played baseball.” 

Yuto balled his fist as the others cheered. He turned his outrage to Woosoek rather than Hyojong, punctuating his words with punches along Wooseok’s arm and back. “Why do you insist on telling everyone I play sports the moment you meet them?” 

“Yah,” Wooseok countered in between attacks, “would you rather be the ‘baseball guy’ or the ‘Japanese guy?’” 

The group quieted.

Hyunggu imagined the others were scanning their memories, like him, wondering if they’d defined and confined Yuto as other, even in the short time he’d been at the party, even in the short time he’d been part of the group project. It hadn’t occurred to Hyunggu that Yuto was probably quiet in class because Korean wasn’t his first language, that he was probably studying here on a sports scholarship, and that’s why he ran in late everyday. 

Yuto’s hands rained back onto Wooseok’s torso not as punches but as an enveloping hug. Hyunggu half-expected Wooseok to make a joke, to shake him off, but he simply hugged his friend back. 

When they parted, Yanan was quick to remind Yuto to chug—his punishment for losing the game. The pretty pink blush littering Yuto’s cheeks almost distracted Hyunggu from grabbing him another drink. 

“You don’t have to—“

Once again, Yuto had followed him into the kitchen. 

“I don’t mind.” Hyunggu smiled genuinely. “I like being a good host. Same drink okay?”

“A bit less rum, please. I’m probably dehydrated from the game this morning, I don’t want to feel like complete shit tomorrow.”

Hyunggu handed him the replenished cup and leaned back against his kitchen counter. “I’m surprised you even wanted to come out tonight. Aren’t you exhausted?”

“I’m always exhausted. I don’t usually drink during the season, though, but we have a bye week coming up. I’ll pass out as soon as I get home.” Yuto took a long sip. “It’s so weird that we have mutual friends.”

Hyunggu almost told him about how Hyojong cursed the weird upon him, but he asked “Do you actually know Hwitaek hyung? You’re not a music major, right?” instead.

Yuto shook his head. “I’m film studies, but Hwitaek hyung was actually at the last party I went to with Wooseok. That hyung is everywhere,” Yuto finished suspiciously. 

Hyunggu giggled. “Yeah, it does seem that way. You’re everywhere, too, you know? First running into me in class, then in my group project, now in my  _ apartment _ .”

“Shit, I never properly apologized for that.” Yuto reached out with the arm not holding his drink as if to touch Hyunggu’s arm, but he stopped short. Hyunggu didn’t understand why it had the same comforting effect without any contact at all. “I don’t know why I didn’t just go down another row of seats.”

“I do tend to have that effect on people.”

“What? People want to run you over?” Yuto did reach out this time with a hand on Hyunggu’s shoulder. “Get some confidence, Hyunggu, don’t be a doormat.”

With a single patronizing pat, Yuto turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Hyunggu gripped the kitchen-island-turned-drink-station in front of him. He hated being teased.

Being teased by Yuto, though, might just be fun. 

___

To Hyunggu’s relief, things weren’t any more awkward between the group once class resumed after the party. Though the party itself did turn out to be more hangover-inducing than Hyunggu had planned. By the end of the night, he’d finished a bottle of rum and apologized profusely to Yanan for slinging him across the apartment during a game of bunny, bunny. 

Now, when Yuto walked into class almost-late he grinned sheepishly at his groupmates. Both Wooseok and Yuto moved up to sit in the second row, and Wooseok took to whispering jokes worse than Hyojong’s in between activities. Hyunggu tried his best to focus on the lecture rather than the low rumble of Yuto’s laugh. 

Maybe Hyunggu’d even say they were becoming friends, classroom-friends—the ones you add on Facebook and say hi to in the hallways after the semester’s over. 

“We have to go see a musical by Monday, right?” Hyojong confirmed the week before midterms. The essay accounting for thirty percent of their grade required analyzing the use of choreography and the body in musical theater. Buying theater tickets was outside of most students’ price range, which Professor Kim knew, so she reserved discounted tickets for her CCD students. She warned them they’d have to sit in the nosebleeds, but Hyunggu assumed most of the class didn’t actually care much about watching the actual show. Hyunggu, on the other hand, hadn’t ruled out auditioning for musicals or backup dancer roles once he graduated and was pleased at his professor’s choice of midterm assignment. “We could all go together? Make a night of it.” 

Hyunggu shrugged. “Whatever works for me as long as it’s not Saturday. I need to practice.” 

“Our Hyunggu, so hardworking,” Hyojong coo’d, pinching Hyunggu’s cheeks. 

Hyunggu swatted him away. “You should be working hard, too, hyung. You’re also in the showcase.” Hyojong gave him a knowing wave of his hand before turning to their group mates. “You down?”

Wooseok gave a thumbs up. 

“Uh, my teammate’s a singer, and we’d planned to go see it together tomorrow night,” Yuto confessed. He rubbed at the guilt coating the back of his neck. 

“You could invite him to come along with us?” 

“Unless,” Hyojong interjected, “it’s a date?” 

Yuto’s eyes widened, hand waving frantically in front of his chest. “Oh, uh, no, definitely not a date. I’ll ask him if he’d be okay to join if you’re sure that’s okay?”

Hyunggu nodded and smiled. Yuto seemed to need routine reassurance, and Hyunggu hoped the potential awkwardness of merging his friend groups wouldn’t smother the easy teasing they’d developed with each other over the past couple of weeks. Last Tuesday, Yuto walked into class just thirty seconds before Professor Kim and dramatically pretended to fall into Hyunggu on his way to his seat. Hyunggu had pushed him off with a pointed “yah,” but the lingering scent of Yuto’s post-practice cologne calmed his instinctual annoyance. 

“How about we still go tomorrow night since that’s when Yuto was already planning on going?” Wooseok suggested. “I can swing by the box office this afternoon and pick up the tickets.” 

They all agreed, parting only after Hyojong insisted they 4-way fist-bumped.

___

“Holy shit,” Wooseok’s panicked voice sounded across the theater lobby on Friday night. He flung himself behind Yuto and crouched down with only his eyes peeking up above Yuto’s shoulder. 

“What’s the matter?” Hyojong didn’t try to hide the amusement in his voice. 

“He’s here.”

“Who?”

The entire group followed Wooseok’s gaze across the room near the concessions. 

“Oh, I know him,” Yuto’s friend Hongseok said. For Yuto’s sake, Hyunggu was relieved that Hongseok fit into the group without uncomfortable silences or stares. He was funnier than Hyunggu had expected; he found himself clutching onto Hyojong’s arm with giggles whenever the guy opened his mouth. 

Wooseok’s death-grip on Yuto’s leather jacket bubbled laughter in him, too. 

“He plays piano for my voice lessons,” Hongseok continued. “Is he your mortal enemy or something, am I going to have to fight for your honor right now?” Hongseok held his fists in front of his chest, pulling the fabric of his T-shirt tight against his biceps. Hyunggu had no doubt that he could actually beat the shit out of someone if he wanted to. 

Wooseok turned his eyes sharply away from the concessions guy. “You hurt him and I hurt you.” 

To that, Yuto was the one to sputter out a giggle. “You’ve never hurt anyone in your life. Wait.” He swiveled around to face Wooseok. “Is that the TA?” 

Hyunggu followed Wooseok’s eyes back to the concessions stand. The guy was tall, well, not compared to Wooseok, but he was taller than Hyunggu. His shoulders were broad and his waist narrow. He did look older than them. 

“Do you want to go through a side door? They can just redirect us once we’re inside.” 

Wooseok steeled his resolve. “No. I can do this. I can walk past the cutest guy I’ve ever seen.” Yuto patted his friend’s arm to the beat of his words. “I see him everyday in class, this is no different. He’s just wearing more casual clothes and his shoulders look even better in this lighting and he’s holding a bottle of water so he’s got to be health-conscious and he’s smiling at his phone, probably at a stupid meme because he’s kind of a goof and oh my  _ god _ he has a girlfriend.” 

They all turned to watch as a girl with shoulder-length hair and a pretty smile linked her arm with his. 

Yuto, without a word, hugged Wooseok tightly and guided him with a hand on the small of his back toward the side entrance. 

Hyunggu, just as wordlessly, hung back to buy Wooseok grieving-chocolate and, if he was honest with himself, to get a closer look at the TA. 

The line for the concessions was moderately long, leaving time for Hyunggu to marvel at the center part this guy was able to pull off. He was so focused on his long bangs that Hyunggu almost didn’t notice he could hear their conversation. 

“Mom asked me three times in the past week if I’m studying for midterms. Does she think I’m just sitting around watching tv all day?” the girl complained.

“I’m going to call and tell her you flunked out to join a nudist colony in the mountains.”

“Yeah, and I’ll tell her you got so drunk you blacked out in a bathtub full of water and almost  _ drowned. _ ” 

“Okay, edgelord, I was just kidding but that actually happened and you have been sworn to secrecy.” He flicked her on the forehead. “You know she’s only on your case because it’s your first year. She nagged me like that, too, when I was a freshman. Once you prove to her you’re doing well, she’ll let up a little bit. Don’t worry, my favorite dongsaeng.” 

“I’m your only dongsaeng,” the girl muttered, rubbing at her forehead. 

“Ha!” Hyunggu snapped, loudly, but leapt out of the line before anyone could turn their confused stares onto him.

“Sister!” he announced with shallow breaths after climbing the stairs to the balcony. His friends, already seated, delivered the confusion he’d previously dodged. “She’s his sister.”

Wooseok still looked dazed, but the other three understood and began to pat Wooseok on his shoulders, his head, his back. “He’s single,” they assured him, and the grin that stretched across his mouth showed relief and a little embarrassment. 

Hyunggu, satisfied, sat down in the last seat next to Yuto.

“How’d you find out?” Yuto asked, and Hyunggu could see the others leaning forward and sideways in their seats to hear the story.

He explained the line and the conversation and despite Hyojong complaining that he should have bought the snacks anyway, everyone seemed impressed by his detective work. 

“This is a sign,” Yuto told Wooseok. “You should talk to him on Monday.”

“First,” Wooseok noted with a single finger in the air. “He’s my TA and probably can’t date his students. Ethics or some shit. Second,” he added another finger, “What can I even talk to him about that isn’t just the homework or test prep?”

Yuto reached around Hongseok to playfully slap at the back of Woosoek’s head. “Thanks to Hongseokie hyung we know he plays piano. You know he’s here to see this musical, and you’ll have seen it, too. Talk to him about the music.”

Hyunggu and Hongseok nodded encouragingly. “Okay, maybe. We’ll see. I’ll think about it. Probably.”

The lights blinked before any of them had the opportunity to increase Wooseok’s confidence further. Hyunggu instead settled into his seat. With the arrival of Wooseok’s crush, he’d almost forgotten to feel excited for the show. 

In high school, Hyunggu participated in the spring musical every year, and show choir was undoubtedly his favorite class before he began his dance major in college. It crossed his mind more than a few times that a career in musical theater could fulfill his love for dancing and performing, but itching at the back of his mind was a worry that he’d feel too distanced from the audience to curb that insatiable craving for connection he felt when he danced. 

Watching from the highest balcony, though, showed Hyunggu that a dancer’s ability to convey the subtlest of emotions with their bodies was not limited by distance or by height. He sat transfixed by the power of the performance. It wasn’t the lead actors and actresses who hypnotized him; it was the ensemble of dancers painting movement and mood across each scene that forced him onto his feet when act one ended and intermission began. 

Once murmurs replaced clapping, Hyunggu looked over to see his friends’ reactions. Hyojong had already pulled out his phone, but the others appeared just as engrossed as he was despite staying firmly seated for the conclusion of the first act. 

“Like it so far?” Yuto asked him when he sat back down. His eyes were bright, interested. 

Hyunggu nodded. “I’ve never seen a professional production before, this is,” he paused to find a word to properly convey the goosebumps on his arms, “breathtaking. What about you? Are you into this kind of thing?” 

Hyunggu regretted his phrasing as soon as it left his mouth. He sounded condescending, even to himself. 

Yuto heard it, too, and he cocked his eyebrow not unlike the way he did at the party weeks earlier. “Do you really think there’s nothing going on up here,” he pointed to his temple, “except pitching calls?”

“No, no—“

“I thought we’d gotten to know each other by now, Hyunggu, do I need to give you a crash course in my interests and opinions?” 

Hyunggu couldn’t tell if Yuto was serious or not, and when Hongseok appeared as guest lecturer, he was even less sure.

“Likes: analyzing different animation styles, dressing like a grim reaper, giggling at everything Wooseok says, just hugging it out when he feels awkward, rapping along to Hamilton in the shower after practice, reading movie reviews, sending his parents fancy presents, and pretty boys.” 

Yuto’s eyes widened at that last one, but Hongseok continued.

“Dislikes: pretty boys who are hard to read, people who don’t say what they mean, disrespectful assholes, spicy food, ghost stories, the color red for some reason, the number nine for some reason, being late—“ to which Hyunggu snorted, “—spending money on frivolous shit, and small talk.”

Hongseok winked at him before turning back in his seat and taking out his phone. 

“I second all of that,” Wooseok chimed in, “but I’ll add that he’s allergic to nuts.” 

“An important addition,” Hyunggu replied seriously. He turned to Yuto. “I am sorry, I don’t know why I keep saying stupid shit.”

“It’s cool, I promise. I know I’m not much of a talker, so I can’t expect but so much.”

The floating feeling Hyunggu felt in his chest all through the first half of the musical must have radiated out to his limbs because he found himself reaching out to touch Yuto’s arm. “You say a lot with your hands, though, and you’ve talked to me plenty when it’s just the two of us. I guess, If I want to know more, I’ll have to spend more time alone with you.”

Yuto only had enough time to blush before the lights went down once more.

___

Hyunggu felt rejuvenated at practice the following day. The intersection of all of his work at this point in the semester was more than overwhelming. Each day felt like merely keeping his head above water. On Saturday, though, Hyunggu was wading in crystal clear sea with a margarita in his hand. 

He wasn’t sure how far the musical would float him to, but for today at least, he was content. When he sprawled on his back in the middle of the practice room, soft pants filling the silence and Hyojong’s hair tickling at his arm, Hyunggu felt like he could actually get through this week. He could pass his midterms, he could master the final set of steps, he could get to know Yuto better. 

His phone beeped from across the room, and Hyunggu groaned with the thought of getting up. Hwitaek, the savior he was, brought it to him instead. 

“Oh, you probably have a notification, too,” Hyunggu said to Hyojong. “It’s Wooseok.” 

Hyojong rested his head on Hyunggu’s chest to read the texts along with him.

**Wooseokie:** ****  
guys i did it    
i talked to him   
and it wasn’t even about class   
he’s so cute   
and so dumb   
how is he MY ta    
i want to take his job and kiss his nose 

**Hyunggu:** ****  
(hyojong’s with me we’re both proud of you !!!!!)   
what did you talk about?

**Wooseokie** :   
okay so he was walking around asking us if we needed any help with our research   
so i told him i had a random question for him not related to the classwork 

**Hyunggu:** ****  
so you made it sound like you were being a slacker? smooth   
THAT WAS HYOJONG.   
ignore him.   
go on.

**Wooseokie:** **  
** i told him i had to see a musical for one of my other classes and asked for a recommendation 

**Hyunggu:** ****  
even though we’ve already seen the musical slakjfhsdkfjh genius    
you’re right you should be the teaching assistant 

**Wooseokie:** ****  
right?   
and he suggested a few things    
i don’t even remember what they were because i kept looking at his mouth while he talked 

**Hands:** **  
** gross

“Wait,” Hyojong sat up from Hyunggu’s chest. “Is that…Is that what you have Yuto saved as in your phone?”

“I suddenly can’t read, I don’t know.”

“Kang Hyunggu, I need you to be honest with me, okay? I promise I won’t make fun of you and I won’t tell anyone. Do you have a hand fetish?” 

Hyunggu shoved Hyojong off of him. “Okay, I’m actually leaving. Hwitaek hyung, strangle him for me, will you?”

“I’m not afraid to admit to my kinks, Kang Hyunggu, Hwitaek hyung can choke me out anytime he wants,” Hyojong yelled at Hyunggu’s retreating form.

Hyunggu shook away  _ that _ image from his head as he walked over to the bus stop a few blocks away. He’d have to wait ten minutes for next time check, so he took his phone out once more, first changing Yuto’s contact name, second navigating back to the group chat. 

**Hyojong:** **  
** hyunggu’s grosser 

**Hyunggu:** **  
** can we get back to the story i’m on the edge of my seat 

**Wooseokie:** ****  
that’s really it    
i told him i’d let him know how i liked it so now i have an excuse to talk to him again    
and i’ve already seen the musical so. i just have to wait a couple days to bring it up 

**Yuto:** **  
** how long after you start dating do we get to tell him this whole conversation was a rouse 

**Wooseokie:** **  
** approximately thirty years 

**Hyunggu:** **  
** deal 

**Hyojong:** **  
** deal

**Yuto:**   
deal 

___

Three sleepovers in the library, two baristas knowing him by name, and a tearful cry to his mother later, Hyunggu made it through midterms week. His essay for the musical was an A, obviously, and his other in-major courses went similarly well. It was only his elective for the semester, an astrology class, that tripped him up. That his advisor got away with selling this course to him as an easier alternative to taking biology was more irritating than the material itself. Regardless, he was probably going to get a B, and at this point in the semester, that’s all he could ask for. 

Hwitaek and Hyojong seemed just as drained as their midterms came to a close, so Hyunggu hoped there was a way for them all to get together to unwind—and also a way for him to hang out with Yuto alone; his bold proposal for them to hang out more one-on-one had gone spectacularly unrealized since the musical—but the CCD group project loomed over his head. 

“Should we go ahead and watch the performance soon?” Hyunggu asked after class on Friday. They’d chosen a recorded concert, which combined Hyunggu and Hyojong’s love of dance, Wooseok’s love of songwriting, and Yuto’s love of cinematography. 

Hyojong groaned. “Can’t we take a break from schoolwork for a while? Like at least two years.”

Yuto chuckled. He always laughed at Hyojong’s jokes even when 70% of them weren’t that funny. 

“Why don’t we combine work and relaxation? It’ll be a movie night. Hyojong, you can invite Hwitaek hyung, Yuto you invite Hongseok hyung. Oh my god, Wooseok, you can invite the TA.”

Since the initial musical conversation, Wooseok and his cute TA—Shinwon, Hyunggu had learned—had managed to speak on three other occasions, and once, Wooseok got Shinwon to laugh, which sent him into a spiral so giddy Hyunggu wasn’t sure Wooseok was going to remember to study for his last midterm. 

“And what the hell would I say? Hey, Shinwon-ssi, can you come to my apartment this weekend, I want you to sit on my couch and let me hold your hand while we watch a concert with my idiot friends?”

Yuto put his hand on Wooseok’s shoulder. “No.”

“Tell him it’s a project for a class and you’d like his opinion. We could even rent out the auditorium in D Hall so you’re not creepily inviting him over to your personal space.” Hyunggu clapped his hands together definitively. “I’ll look into the auditorium, you all confirm with your friends slash crushes. This will be fun.”

The others looked skeptical, and maybe Hyunggu was idealizing them all spending time together after how fun the musical was, but he smiled at Yuto on the way out of the classroom and couldn’t bring himself to care.

___

Maybe he should have cared. 

They were sat in the D Hall auditorium, a room with comfortable, reclining chairs instead of desks and an oversized projector screen. The honors college used the space for movie nights not unlike this one. Hwitaek, Hyunggu, and Shinwon were all convinced to come, and while the conversation between them wasn’t particularly stilted, the problem was just how little any of them could talk while they watched the concert. 

Yuto and Hyunngu belatedly realized they needed to take notes during the concert unless they wanted to rewatch the whole thing over again to prepare for the presentation, so the group mates sat studiously with notebooks in their laps and analytical eyes toward the screen. When Hongseok tried to crack a joke, when Shinwon tried to ask a question, when Hwitaek tried to rest his head on Hyojong’s shoulder, they were all shushed. 

Once the dvd finally came to an end, Hyunggu stretched the tension from his back and sent an apologetic look to their guests. 

“Okay, so that was all work and no play.” 

“I told you,” Hyojong scolded. Yuto placed his hand on Hyojong’s knee as if to keep him from saying any more. 

“Well, we booked this room until the building closes,” Wooseok noted with anxious eyes toward Shinwon. He’d spent an hour and a half in his presence, outside of their lecture hall, and hadn’t made more of an impression than looking exactly like a student in one of his classes. Not ideal. “How about we watch something else?” 

Everyone nodded, just as eager to chat and laugh and play. 

“Shinwon-ssi, why don’t you choose something?” 

Wooseok’s voice was so sweetly-nervous, Hyunggu wrapped his hands around Yuto’s arm and squeezed to keep himself from laughing. 

“They just added ‘It Follows’ to Netflix, didn’t they? We could watch that.” 

Wooseok, without sparing a glance at anyone else’s opinions, agreed.

While Wooseok and Shinwon stood at the front of the room to get the movie set up, Hyunggu leaned over to whisper to Yuto. “Didn’t Hongseok say you were afraid of ghost stories? I can suggest we watch something else if you’re going to be uncomfortable.” 

Apprehension showed clear in Yuto’s expression, but he said, “I’m not going to mess this up for Wooseok. This is practically a triple date.”

“Oh, is it?” Hyunggu countered. “I should have invited someone, I’m third-wheeling you and Hongseok.” 

Yuto leaned in to whisper close to Hyunggu’s ear: “Nope. Hongseok is the one third-wheeling us.”

Hyunggu choked on his own spit, causing everyone in the room to turn to him and for Hyojong to pass down a bottle of water. Hyunggu sipped from it slowly, avoiding any eye contact with the others.

He had changed his mind. Yuto teasing him wasn’t fun; it was torturous. 

“I’m going to turn the lights out,” Wooseok proclaimed, “for maximum effect.”

And the effect on Yuto was immediate. His confidence deteriorated in the deep darkness of the room. Hyunggu felt him lean into his side, and when the opening credits illuminated their faces, he saw Yuto bring his curled fists up to his chin. 

It Follows wasn’t even a slasher film; it wasn’t filled with jumpscare after jumpscare. It was slow, taunting. That must have made it even worse for Yuto who couldn’t release his nervous energy with a scream or a start; instead, his increasing fright inched him closer and closer to Hyunggu. 

By the end of the first hour, Yuto’s head was buried in his neck. Hyunggu tried laboring his breathing in the hopes that Yuto would unconsciously match him, and when that didn’t seem to make a difference, he placed his hand on top of Yuto’s thigh, palm up: an invitation.

Yuto took it unabashedly, interlocking their fingers and  _ squeezing _ . 

They stayed like that until the movie was over. When Hongseok got up to turn the lights on, Hyunggu expected Yuto to break apart from their embrace, but he turned his face further into his collarbone, shielding his eyes from the abrupt shift in brightness. As the tension in Yuto’s body snapped from the relief that the movie was over, the pressure on Hyunggu’s fingers lifted. 

From his limited range of movement, Hyunggu could see Wooseok and Shinwon giggling toward each other. Hyunggu had no guess as to who or what was the source of their laughter—especially considering how quickly and accurately Shinwon matched Wooseok’s sense of humor—but he was happy to see Yuto’s absolute terror wasn’t for naught. 

The others began to get up out of their seats, so Hyunggu brought his free hand up to rub at Yuto’s arm. 

“Hey, you’re okay,” he soothed.

Yuto hazarded a look up from Hyunggu’s neck, and even in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the auditorium, he could see just how much color had drained from Yuto’s face.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to—“ 

“I want to.”

They said their goodbyes—Hyojong looked pointedly at their hands, still interlocked, but Hongseok and Wooseok didn’t seem to notice or to care—and made their way out into the chilly night time wind. Color returned to Yuto’s face as a bright pink on the tip of his nose and the tips of his ears.

“You’re a good friend,” Hyunggu noted once Yuto righted them in the direction toward his apartment. 

“I don’t disagree, but what makes you say that?”

“You sat through that for Wooseok’s sake. I’m not sure I would have done it for Hyojong hyung.”

Yuto cut his eyes toward him. “I think you would’ve.” 

“Hm?”

“You just let me smother you for two hours just because I was scared.” He bent his elbow to bring their hands up by their shoulders. “You’re still letting me hold onto you. That’s sacrifice, too.”

He dropped their hands back down while Hyunggu wondered whether this qualify as a sacrifice if he had no want to take his hand for himself. 

“Have you always been scared of horror movies?” he asked aloud instead. 

Yuto nodded. “When I was a kid, my older brother let me watch Scream after our parents went to bed. I couldn’t sleep for three nights straight. It was so bad my parents wanted to take me to a sleep specialist, and I didn’t want to rat out my brother, so I let them.” 

Hyunggu’s laugh filled the empty sidewalk. “I’m assuming you’ve slept since then? How did you overcome it?” 

“I started sleeping with the light on at first, then a nightlight, then a tv, and now I keep the hall light on outside of my room, but otherwise I’m good.” 

Yuto guided them down a side street Hyunggu recognized. They weren’t far from his own apartment. 

“Are you going to be okay tonight?” 

He was quiet for a moment. “I think so. This is me up here.” 

They walked up to an apartment building with three floors and an impressive flower bed out front. The parking lot was well-lit, and Hyunggu hoped Yuto’s room was washed in that streetlight tonight. 

Hyunggu only pulled his hand away from Yuto’s once they reached the second floor. 

“Can you let me know you get home okay? I hate that you’re walking back to your apartment alone in the dark.” 

“I’m going to call Wooseok and make me tell him what the hell happened with the TA, so don’t worry too much. But yes, I’ll text you when I get home.” 

Yuto nodded, satisfied. “Thank you, for walking me here. And for putting up with me tonight.” 

“Thank you for putting up with me everyday.” 

Yuto took a step forward, grabbed Hyunggu’s hand once more, though instead of interlocking their fingers, he held Hyunggu’s hand in his palm and ran his thumb across his knuckles.

“I don’t just ‘put up with you,’ you know that, right?” 

“What should I know?” Hyunggu asked, too afraid to be wrong. 

Yuto pulled on Hyunggu’s hand, guiding his arms around his waist while his own fitted around Hyunggu’s shoulders. This was the first time they’d ever hugged, Hyunggu realized, and that familiar smell of Yuto’s cologne clung to his chest. 

He sighed. From the warmth, from the comfort, from the knowledge that Yuto didn’t have to say a word for Hyunggu to know that he was telling him that he liked him. 

___

Hyunggu forgot to call Woosoek on his walk home. His mind thought of nothing else but the texture of Yuto’s T-shirt against his cheek, the bright smile that he gave him when they parted. Yuto didn’t say anything else, simply ran a hand through Hyunggu’s hair before stepping into his apartment. Hyunggu felt such a lightness across his limbs that it felt like he floated all the way home, grounded to nothing but the hope of what tomorrow could bring. 

Banging his foot into the kitchen island as soon as he got home brought him back down to earth. 

He remembered, then, to call Wooseok, and laughed loudly while his friend recounted the easy conversation between him and his crush. Apparently Shinwon’s defense mechanism against being scared was reimagining how he could prank the demonic entities that followed the main characters. 

“Did Yuto get home okay? I tried calling him, but he didn’t pick up,” Wooseok asked before their conversation ended. 

“He’s probably showering or something, but yeah, I walked him to his apartment. He seemed to have calmed down a lot.” 

“That’s your doing—thank you for taking care of him. I don’t know what I was thinking, I completely forgot about how much he hates horror movies. I’m a dick.” 

“You are,” Hyunggu confirmed bluntly,” but you’re a dick who’s in like with a cute goofball, so you get a pass. Make sure you apologize to him directly, though, and not just through me.” 

“Roger that, dad, I will.”

“Shut up. Go to bed, loverboy.” 

“Isn’t that my line?”

“What-“

Woosoek snorted before hanging up. Hyunggu would have to remind him on Monday that he  _ didn’t like to be teased _ , but for now, he focused on washing up. 

Once the hot water of his shower regretfully washed away the smell of Yuto from his skin, he put on his softest pajamas and climbed into bed. 

Hyunggu grabbed his phone to set an alarm for the following morning and saw that he had a notification. It was a text sent only to him, the first time Yuto had contacted him outside of the group chat.

**Yuto:** **  
** i’m assuming you made it home?

**Hyunggu:** ****  
shit, i’m sorry, i was talking to wooseok and forgot to text you   
yes, i made it home ^^

**Yuto:** **  
** good 

Hyunggu didn’t want to stop talking so soon, and some part of him wanted to prove that they could carry on a conversation without the usual hilarity of Hyojong and Wooseok in the chat.

**Hyunggu:** **  
** how are you feeling?

**Yuto:** ****  
okay i think   
i haven’t tried closing my eyes to fall asleep which is always the hardest part

**Hyunggu:** **  
** you just have to picture something else, something specific, so your imagination doesn’t go wild

**Yuto:** **  
** yeah? like what?

**Hyunggu:** **  
** anything that comforts you

Hyunggu propped himself up on his elbows, the thought of sleep far from his mind.

**Yuto:** **  
** what comforts you?

**Hyunggu:** ****  
sweet melodies   
thunderstorms    
honestly?   
the smell of your cologne   
what about you?

He chewed on the pad of his thumb as he watched Yuto’s typing bubble vanish and reappear three times. 

**Yuto:** ****  
the smell of grass   
my mom’s laugh   
sweeping cinematic scores   
honestly?    
your smile 

Hyunggu flipped onto his back, bringing his blanket up over his head. There was no one to see his embarrassment, but not even the darkness was to be privy to his blush. 

**Hyunggu:** ****  
i want to ask you something   
but no pressure to say yes, okay? ****  
do you want to come to my dance practice tomorrow?   
we learned the last part of the choreography   
and it’d be cool to have another set of eyes on the whole thing   
only if you want to, though :”)

Yuto’s reply was immediate. 

**Yuto:** **  
** i definitely want to  
just tell me when and where

___

When sweat pooled on the surface of Hyunggu’s palms and Hwitaek asked for the fourth time if he had a demon following him around, Hyunggu thought maybe inviting Yuto to practice was a mistake. 

**“** We do actually need to practice this the whole way through,” Hyojong warned, uncharacteristically stern. “Don’t let him being here distract you.”

Hwitaek back-hugged Hyojong while the rest of the dancers began to stretch. Hyunggu and Hwitaek made it a habit to arrive to practice early so they could monitor everyone else’s stretching instead of focusing on their own. Eventually, Hyojong started tagging along, too. 

“Ignore him. He gets more sensitive than even you when he feels left out.”

Hyunggu added his own hug to Hwitaek’s, caging Hyojong in between them. “What happened, hyungie?”

“You’re all pairing off,” he mumbled.

“Who?”

“Wooseokie has Shinwon-ssi, you have Yuto.”

Hyunggu gave Hwitaek an incredulous look over Hyojong’s shoulder. “He’s kidding, right?”

“Don’t give me that.” Hyojong pinched Hyunggu’s arm. “Hwitaek hyung doesn’t count.”

Hwitaek spun Hyojong around to face him. “Hyojongie.” He cupped Hyojong’s cheek so tenderly that Hyunggu removed his arms from his best friend’s middle. “I want to count. Will you go out with me?”

Hyojong, immediately and startlingly, screamed. 

Murmurs of “fucking finally” and “weren’t they already dating?” filled the studio, and Hyunggu ordered everyone back to warming up while Hyojong and Hwitaek stood in a tight embrace in the corner. 

He watched them with a satisfied grin. Hyojong had no reason to be jealous in the first place--Hwitaek and Hyojong had been closer to dating for an entire year than Wooseok or Hyunggu currently were--but if that’s what it took for those two to finally get together, so be it. Maybe he was finally embracing the weird. 

The sound of the studio door slamming shut steered Hyunggu’s attention away from his friends’ roaming hands and toward distressed blue jeans and white, long-sleeved shirts. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Yuto in an outfit that wasn’t black. 

Yuto waved a small ‘hi,’ which Hyunggu returned with a smile that probably looked as cheesy as it felt. 

“Am I early?” 

“No, you’re just in time. We’re about to start.”

A beat of silence passed between them. A moment when Hyunggu wanted to compliment Yuto’s outfit and to ask him how he slept and to ask if he felt nervous too. A moment when Hyunggu said none of those things.

“If you two are done,” he said instead toward the corner. Hwitaek and Hyojong broke apart, shy smiles on both of their faces. Hyunggu saw Yuto’s eyes widen in his peripheral vision. 

The troupe snickered, and Hwitaek was quick to remind them that today was an important run-through. 

Hyunggu set Yuto up at the front of the room under a camera that was to record the performance. While the footage would allow them to see their mistakes and their successes, it was Yuto who would be able to tell them how the routine actually made an audience  _ feel.  _ If Professor Kim had taught them anything, it was that this was far more important than technical accuracy. 

He asked Yuto to simply take the performance in for what it was. He gave no other context. 

Hyunggu tried his best not to focus on their sole audience member while he allowed the music to flow through his body,, but he knew eye contact was his strength. In those moments when he indulged, Yuto’s gaze roamed his face, his chest, his legs, encouraging Hyunggu to channel every ounce of his energy down into even the flicks of his fingers. He knew Yuto’s examining eyes would notice. 

When the last note sounded and only rasping breaths filled the studio, Yuto clapped, which none of them must have been expecting, as they all broke out into tired smiles. 

Yuto cupped his mouth and sounded ‘ooooooh’s and ‘aaaaaaah’s, and Hyunggu rolled his eyes while Hwitaek sent him finger guns of appreciation. 

The co-leaders sent their team on a water break while they sat down with Yuto at the front of the studio. Hyojong unsurprisingly joined them. He laced his fingers together with Hwitaek’s, and although Hyunggu had once seen them lay on top of each other, flush from forehead to toes, something about this small moment of intimacy made his chest constrict. 

“Is it okay if we ask you a few questions?”

Yuto nodded. 

Hyunggu and Hwitaek had decided before Yuto arrived that they most wanted to know what tone the performance conveyed, and how successfully they created a narrative arc with the changes in positions and tempo. Yuto answered each question sincerely, throwing in compliments that made Hyunggu blush in between. 

All three thanked him when they finished. Hyojong and Hwitaek got up to have their own water--and probably make out--break while Hyunggu stayed behind.

“We’re going to start troubleshooting continuity if you want to stick around.” The nerves he felt this morning had not subsided despite now knowing how much Yuto enjoyed his performance. “I thought maybe we could grab lunch after this? If you wanted?”

Yuto grinned, nodded. 

And Hyunggu grinned, nodded.

___

He let Yuto pick the place. 

After a quick shower at the studio and another group hug with Hyojong and Hwitaek—Hyunggu made the mistake of kissing them both on the cheek to which they then kissed each other, deeply, and it felt too close to a threesome for his liking—he sat with Yuto at a noodle shop a few blocks over. 

“How long have you been dancing?” Yuto asked after they ordered. 

“This is a cliche answer, but as long as I can remember. Formally, though, my parents put me in my first dance class when I was five.” 

“Wow. No wonder you’re as amazing as you are. You—you’re mesmerizing. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you.” 

Hyunggu was, quite frankly, used to being complimented, but nothing felt quite like the flip in his stomach at hearing Yuto’s praise.

“How long have you been playing baseball?” 

“Also about five. I’m the youngest, I think my parents were kind of done by the time I came around. Instead of putting me in an after-school program, they sent me to practice. It was t-ball, then coach-pitch, then up into little league.” 

Hyunggu noticed just how little Yuto moved his hands while he talked, a contradiction to just how much he managed to say with just his hands alone. 

“Was the plan always to play in Korea?” 

Yuto smiled, but he stared down at the table. “No. My parents didn’t want me to study abroad. Like I said, I’m the youngest, so I think they just expected me to follow in my siblings’ footsteps.” Hyunggu waited while Yuto found the words he wanted to say amongst the stained wood of their table. “But I saw what their lives were like. Going to a local university, getting in a relationship, settling down close to home. Didn’t feel right for me.” 

“And how has Seoul felt?”

Yuto looked up. He eyes skipped across Hyunggu’s features, and he smiled, wide and bright this time. 

“Weird. But perfect.” 

___

As they ate, Yuto told him more about getting recruited for the baseball team, learning Korean outside of a textbook, and meeting Wooseok. Hyunggu didn’t know why he’d never thought to ask them how they met, and the choking-laughter the story evoked from him made him wish he’d asked moments before taking a bite of his ramen. 

“He asked me three different times if he could borrow a pencil, but I thought for sure he said I had packed a bat? like the animal, not a baseball bat, so I kept checking in my book bag and saying no, like no, I didn’t pack a bat, and the look on his face every time I went into my book bag but didn’t pull out a pencil for him was so fucking funny.” Yuto dissolved into laughter, and when the waitress came by to refill their drinks, neither of them could audibly thank her. Hyunggu hoped their giggly bows sufficed. 

“The next day he taught me the word for bat, and the rest is history,” Yuto finally concluded once they’d recovered. 

“Remind me to start calling Wooseok bat boy.”

“Absolutely.”

By the end of their meal, Hyunggu was warm from the broth in his stomach and from the bass of Yuto’s voice in his ears. They’d never talked for this long before, but Hyunggu wished with each step towards Yuto’s apartment that their lunch date was yet to be over. 

“I know you’re busy with the showcase, and we still have the stupid project to work on, but the last game of the season is coming up in a couple of weeks,” Yuto noted as they took that familiar turn down the side road next to his complex. “Would you maybe want to come?”

Hyunggu knocked his shoulder into Yuto’s. “Of course. I want to see you in action.”

Yuto dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Don’t get your hopes up. Watching you dance was way more impressive than watching me pitch will be.”

“Hey, you don’t know that. Maybe I have a thing for jocks?”

Yuto eyed him suspiciously. “Didn’t you hate me for the first part of the semester?”

Hyunggu stopped in the middle of the parking lot. “No. I just didn’t take the time to get to know you, that’s all.”

They resumed walking, but Hyunggu was curious to know what made Yuto think that he had disliked him, so he asked. 

“You glared at me for a solid week after that first day I bumped into you,” Yuto explained. “I was terrified when Professor Kim put us in the project together.”

“Fuck, really? I’m an asshole. I was only trying to figure you out. You had that face.” He circled around Yuto’s eyes and cheeks. “And those legs.” He poked at Yuto’s thigh, eliciting a cute chuckle. “And those hands.” He brushed the backs of their knuckles together, not brave enough in the sunlight to interlock their fingers. “Once I started noticing you, I couldn’t stop.”

They’d reached the door to his apartment.

“Good. I didn’t want you to stop.”

___

Yuto was right that preparing for the showcase, and for the final CCD presentation, and for the final exams in his other classes did mean that the final weeks of the semester blurred past him.

Once he arrived at the baseball field with Wooseok, Hyojong, and Hwitaek in tow—Wooseok had suggested they all come out to support Yuto, and Hyunggu tried to not feel disappointed that all of Yuto’s attention wouldn’t be reserved for him—he only had the CCD presentation left. 

His other finals went better than expected; Hyojong teased that Yuto’s game was an unparalleled motivator. Hyojong didn’t have to mention that Yuto standing in the front row of the showcase’s audience inspired Hyunggu to perform the most electric routine of his career; Hyunggu already knew that for himself. 

The following Monday, his semester would be over. It didn’t feel like a couple of months ago that he met Wooseok and Yuto, that they’d merged their friend groups, that it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for Hyunggu to find himself at a baseball game on a Friday night. 

What Hyunggu knew about baseball was limited to sitting on the couch with his father after dinner when he was a kid; now seeing how good Yuto looked in his uniform, Hyunggu couldn’t believe he hadn’t come to a game sooner. 

They watched both teams warm up in the outfield while they ate the customary fries and hotdogs. An egregiously large bucket of fried chicken sailed around the row behind home plate once Jinho, Changgu, and Yanan joined them. Right before the national anthem, Shinwon slid into the open seat beside Wooseok.

Hyunggu’s eyebrows shot up, but he had the courtesy to direct his shock to Hyojong rather than Wooseok.

“He took his final,” Hyojong whispered to him. “He isn’t his TA anymore.”

Hyunggu nodded in understanding and peeked over to see Shinwon looking at Wooseok like there was no one else in this stadium. 

Hyojong and Hwitaek, on his right, were cuddled into each other despite the uncomfortable arm rest between them. 

He looked out to the field to see Yuto waving at him from the dugout. 

A semester over, his sophomore year over, yet this felt like a beginning.

___

Nine innings was about five innings too long for the majority of the group to actively pay attention to the game. Yanan was playing snake vs block on his phone, Hyojong was drawing patterns on Hwitaek’s thigh-- _ gross-- _ and Wooseok seemed in a constant battle between watching the field and watching Shinwon watching him. 

Hyunggu, though, hadn’t taken his eyes off of Yuto since the first pitch. Not only was he objectively good at his position—they were up 5 to 1—but the command with which Yuto led his team was new to Hyunggu. He called out to the baseman who made each play, reminded the team of the force out, yelled with pumped fists when an inning ended. He wasn’t just the pitcher; he was a captain. And Hyunggu was captivated. 

When the team arrived at their last out of the game, Hyunggu forced everyone up on their feet.

The batter wasn’t going to let Yuto down easily: the count was 3-2, and anything close to the strike zone was fouled off.

Hyunggu watched as Yuto stood with his feet on the rubber, his teammates shouting encouragement behind him. Hyunggu clasped his hands together under his chin and took a deep breath of his own.

Yuto began his pitching motions—knee cocked up to his waist, arm wound back behind his head—and drove the ball across the plate.

_ Crack _ .

The batter swung, the pitch too sweet, and this time it soared to the outfield instead of the stands. 

Hyunggu held his breath. 

The ball had height and distance, and Hyunggu was certain it was going to sail over the fence, but a glove snagged it out of the air just before it left the park. On the jumbotron, Yang Hongseok threw the ball he’d just caught into the stands at the back of the stadium. 

“Hongseokie!” Hyojong yelled and joined Hyunggu in jumping up and down to celebrate the victory. 

The home dugout led a chant with the fans, and Hyunggu tried to sing along while also looking for Yuto amongst the players clinging onto the fence. 

A pair of hands grabbed him around the waist, he heard an “excuse me” next to his ear, and suddenly Adachi Yuto was kissing him. 

___

“In conclusion, the concert features backup dancers in every single song. The artist is never on stage by themselves,” Yuto noted to the class. He signaled for Wooseok to turn the slide over.

“Reviews of the concert not only praise the artist, but the dancers as well, even describing backup dancers’ hair, facial features, and charisma on stage.” Wooseok nodded to Hyojong.

“On a forum where concert-goers discussed their experiences, users expressed a feeling of hearing the songs for the first time as they combined with the spectacle of the stage show, including the dancers positioned beside, behind, and sometimes even in front of the artist.” 

All three of Hyunggu’s group mates look toward him and grinned. 

“Dance is not just a way for the songs to be performed, it is transformative of the way the audience engages with the music. Thank you.”

___

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh! I hope you enjoyed! Thank you so, so much for reading.
> 
> I appreciate any and all of your feedback, especially considering this is my first time writing these characters. I would love to hear what you think in the comments below :") 
> 
> If you would like to yell about Adachi Yuto with me, you can find me on find me on [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/leemiknow) or [tumblr](http://wwww.indifferentyoongi.tumblr.com)!
> 
> <3 <3 <3


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